


Daelin

by Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Animal Death, Corpses, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra
Summary: The upbringing of Daelin, a young mirror. Zarya makes a less-than-ideal mentor.





	1. Chapter 1

As a rule, Zarya didn’t spend a lot of time around hatchlings. Oh, sure, she would have loved to study the different breeds’ physiological development, but Nesita didn’t consider her an appropriate companion for the little ones. As fluffy as the clan’s de-facto leader – soon to be former leader, Zarya hoped – might be, she was also a powerful mage, and Zarya didn’t intend to cross her. Somehow she doubted Aridatha would let her mess with the hatchlings either. If only she lived in a Plague clan; they would let her do whatever she wanted, she was sure.

In any case, Zarya was rather surprised when she walked into her chamber and found a young mirror rolling across the floor, wrestling with a dead dreameater. The pup and the carcass writhed, turned, and knocked into a carefully cleaned, assembled, and mounted owlcat skeleton.

“Shade!” Zarya swore, leaping in to try to catch the skeleton before it hit the floor. She failed; the delicate, hollow bones shattered around her. Raising her head and shaking fragments of bone off her back, she glared at the pup.

It had clearly occurred to the hatchling that she might be angry at the development. They extricated themself from the corpse and, whimpering slightly, pushed the dreameater towards Zarya as an offering.

Zarya growled. Hours of painstaking work now littered the floor. There was no hope of reassembling the skeleton. Finding another owlcat would not be difficult, but stripping the flesh from the bones and wiring them together was an arduous, tedious task. One she had to look forward to, thanks to this hatchling.

The hatchling still cowered. Zarya let out a last growl, then turned her muzzle away. Apparently even she didn’t have the stomach to kill a frightened hatchling. Besides, someone would have certainly found out, and then she’d be in trouble. You didn’t attack another clan member, even a very small and annoying one. That law let Zarya continue her quest for an imperial cadaver with minimal interference from Acrux and Telyn, so she didn’t want to see it repealed.

Looking back at the hatchling, Zarya smiled. Somehow she never managed to make the expression look more friendly than hungry. “So, how are you going to make this up to me, little one?”

The half-grown mirror looked uncertainly at the dreameater corpse.

“You can’t pay me with something that was already mine.” Zarya paced around the hatchling, tail lashing. She turned over the dead dreameater with a talon. Its underside was clawed-up, almost shredded. She supposed the young dragon would have done a good job slaying their prey had it not already been decomposing. “In fact, I think you owe me for this, too. Another ruined specimen.”

Mirror eyes did not easily widen innocently or give pathetic looks, but the pup certainly gave it a good try.

“Don’t you talk?” Zarya stopped and frowned down at the creature. Whose get were they? She and Delemont were the only mirrors in the clan. She knew that this was no child of hers, and while they bore some resemblance to Delemont, white eyes said that egg hadn’t been laid in the Starfall Isles. Aridatha had suggested weeks ago that they take in unwanted hatchlings and help them train for service to the Arcanist. This little troublemaker must have been one of them.

“I can talk,” the hatchling said, their voice surprisingly husky. “What do you want me to say?”

_An apology would be a good start_ , Zarya almost said, but thought better of it. Frankly, she didn’t care if the pup said the ritual words of a request for forgiveness. You couldn’t stuff an apology. Zarya preferred her tribute in concrete, bloody form.

“Find me something else of interest,” Zarya said instead.

“What do you mean?” The hatchling’s head tilted, all four blank eyes gazing at Zarya.

Zarya smiled. “As you may have noticed, I have considerable interest in dead things. If you can find me more valuable specimens than what you destroyed, I’ll let you off the hook.”

“And if I don’t?”

For a moment, Zarya pondered the question. What could she do, really, to force compliance? She shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll have to take the question to the clan leaders, then. And I imagine I’m in better with Aridatha than you are.”

“I thought Nesita was in charge.”

“So does she.” Zarya grinned. “Don’t worry about politics. Worry about _me_.”

The pup blinked and looked away. “Where would I find these things?”

“Ask Delemont,” Zarya suggested. “He’s a hunter, and you ought to be training with him anyway, no?”

The other mirror nodded, and something else occurred to Zarya. “You do have a name, don’t you? I ought to know who to ask for if you scurry off.”

“Daelin.” The hatchling turned, clearly ready to leave. And begin looking for new cadavers, Zarya hoped. “My name is Daelin.”

“Nice to meet you, Daelin,” Zarya said, almost singsong. “If you ever want to learn to butcher something _properly_ , do drop by.”


	2. Chapter 2

Daelin lifted their head from the dead harpy and sniffed the air. “What’s that?”

“Something dead,” Nesita said. The tundra folded her wings and shook her head. “Come along, Daelin. We’re done for now.”

“Where is it?” Daelin pressed.

Delemont snorted. The older mirror had already started off down the bluff, and he looked back up at the others. “What, are you Zarya now? Get a move on. I’m hungry.”

“I’m not trying to become Zarya, just fetch and carry for her,” Daelin said, following the scent. “You go on ahead.”

Nesita frowned. “It’s not safe. There are still hostile harpies wandering the area, not to mention the wildlife.”

Daelin lashed their tail impatiently. They didn’t really care whether Nesita and Delemont helped them or left, but they didn’t want to waste time arguing with the older dragons. “I’ll be fine.”

“They’re fast and not completely stupid,” Delemont said. As Daelin understood it, that was about as close as he ever got to a compliment. “They’ll be fine. Come on, Nesita, I’m _hungry_.”

Nesita hesitated, looking back and forth between the two mirrors. Delemont shrugged and kept walking; clearly, he intended to leave whether Nesita accompanied him or not. Shaking her head, Nesita turned to Daelin. “What are we looking for again?”

“You’re the tundra. You tell me.” Daelin knew Nesita’s sense of smell would be better than theirs, but she scrunched up her nose at the suggestion.

“I don’t particularly _want_ to smell that.”

Daelin would have to do it themselves, then. Ignoring Nesita, they sniffed at the ground, tracking the scent. Nesita could have done it better, probably, but they were capable enough. They began to walk, senses focused on the ground before them, sliding around bushes and rock formations by touch as much as sight.

“Oh, Arcanist.”

Daelin looked up at the sound of Nesita’s voice. They’d almost run straight into the corpse, so focused had they been on the trail. Better not do that in the future.

“Arcanist, I’ve never seen one so big.”

It was a roc, at least twice the size of any Daelin had ever seen. Bigger than a ridgeback — bigger than any dragon Daelin knew, except for perhaps Telyn and Cobalt.

Certainly that would be of interest to Zarya. Daelin prodded the corpse, though they really didn’t need to check if it was still alive. There were bugs … It seemed to be in pretty good shape, though. At least, no big, obvious chunks were missing.

“I have to get this back to the lair,” Daelin said.

“ _This_?” Nesita repeated. “It’s huge. And it’s rotting, and it stinks.”

“It’s for Zarya.”

Nesita sighed. “Then how about you bring Zarya out here and she can figure out what to do with it? I’m sure she knows more about the matter than I do, anyway. I can’t even think who’d be able to move it – Cobalt, maybe, but …”

Nesita trailed off, but Daelin knew what she meant. Cobalt was not particularly inclined towards manual labor or, frankly, any kind of labor. The imperial’s entire daily schedule seemed to consist of perching in various areas of the lair and looking gorgeous.

But Nesita had a point. Better to bring Zarya out to see their find than risk ruining yet another specimen by, say, cutting it into more manageable pieces. Daelin nodded and turned to Nesita.

“Can you ward it, in case anything tries to disturb or eat it?”

Nesita was the clan’s most powerful mage – not a particularly impressive title, as Daelin understood it. Clan Lukra was not known for their magical prowess. In fact, Clan Lukra was not known for much at all. There were efforts underway to change that, but Daelin didn’t care. They would probably be long gone by the time any substantial alterations were made; their stay with the clan had never been meant to be permanent.

“I know a few spells,” Nesita said, stepping forward. “They’ll do better than nothing, I suppose. Then may we go?”

“Yes.” _I need to tell Zarya about this_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Quite impressive,” Zarya said, looking down at the roc. “Magnificent, in fact. Help me get it back to the lair, and your debt to me is paid.”

“How do we do that?” Daelin asked.

Zarya examined the corpse meticulously, then pulled a ball of string from her satchel. “First I want to get some measurements. Then we’ll take it apart, _carefully_ , and move it piece by piece. I can dissect the different sections back at the lair, maybe remove and reassemble the skeleton. Tidelord, I don’t even know if this will fit in my lab. I’ll have to commandeer another cavern, and I dread to think how I’m going to transport it when we move.”

“How can I help?” It wasn’t that Daelin particularly enjoyed being helpful – but the faster they removed the cadaver, the sooner they’d be rid of their obligation to Zarya, a free dragon once again.

“Hold this.” Zarya began taking measurements with the string, cutting off lengths and painstakingly labeling them for later analysis. Daelin lent a claw wherever they could, and for quite some time the only terse orders passed between the two mirrors. Daelin appreciated that Zarya didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. In fact, she didn’t speak again until they were carefully cutting one of the wings from the body. “You know, you’re quite good at this. You have steady claws, a good nose, and a strong stomach. You would do well in my profession.”

“I’m not interested in your profession,” Daelin said, their voice carefully neutral, to avoid offending the older dragon.

“Are you sure?” Zarya paused her work and stretched. “You know, I’ve never actually gotten to examine a dragon in the gods’ service, but as I understand it, the experience is rather low on earthly pleasures and interesting conversation.”

Daelin tilted their head and waited for Zarya to continue.

“I’m just saying, you might want to consider doing something else with your life. I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks of the trade myself.”

“What would I owe you for that?” Daelin said, a bit sharply.

Zarya grinned. “Lessons come free of charge. I enjoy sharing my expertise.”

Daelin considered the idea. Their entry to Clan Lukra had been contingent on their future departure for the Arcanist’s service, though. “Would I be permitted to choose a different path?”

Zarya snorted. “You think Nesita’s going to force you into anything? The old fuzzball? Aridatha might be more trouble, but she’s not really in charge yet. And anyway, I told you: I’m in good with her.”

“I’ll consider it.” Daelin looked down and began cutting at the wing again. Zarya got the message and got back to work.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, Zarya was right. Daelin did have a knack for dead things. Not analyzing them, studying them, the way Zarya did. Daelin was good at finding corpses, at searching them and taking them apart. If Zarya wanted the jawbone of a bramble guardian, Daelin could do that, quickly and without fuss. Delemont could have hunted down and killed specimens for Zarya, of course – if he could be bothered to do so, or to take care with his attacks to avoid damaging the desired piece of anatomy. It was easier for Daelin to just find one that had already passed away. Things died all the time, after all.

Zarya was delighted by their performance. The rest of the clan was not. Daelin noticed that they got sidelong looks in the tunnels. Dragons passing them would wrinkle their noses – not just Cobalt, who did that to everyone, but friendlier dragons like Gavin and Luna. Perhaps they still stank of rot, the smell imperceptible to them because they had become so saturated with it. One day, Acrux and Telyn gave Daelin nearly identical cold looks as all three dragons collected their dinner. The imperials must have heard that Daelin was helping Zarya look for one of their kind’s body. The older mirror did so want to study a dead imperial, or even an emperor.

Daelin wasn’t sure why they kept working for Zarya. Their debt was paid with the roc. They didn’t owe her anything. But the work was interesting. And Zarya was right: departing to the Arcanist’s service didn’t appeal to Daelin. They could always do it later if they really wanted to – but no one ever came back from their dedication to the gods.

All went well until the day that Daelin came upon a dead dragon.

Their first thought was simply, _Shade, not an imperial._ Zarya would have been so impressed if they’d managed to fulfill her longtime goal. Then again, from what she’d told them about her previous encounters with defensive imperials, Daelin might live longer if they didn’t.

Alas, this dragon was just a skydancer. Zarya’s dreams would have to wait, and Daelin didn’t have to worry about vengeful kin. Or maybe they did. Daelin sniffed the air as they circled the corpse, checking for signs of other dragons. Nothing: the only tracks and only scent were the dead skydancer’s. Daelin then turned their attention to the body. It was about their own size and bore no gaping wounds or other obvious causes of death. What it did bear, however, were several satchels, almost too heavy for such a delicate dragon. Daelin turned the limp head over with a claw. Mud encrusted the pale fur where it had lain against the ground. The brown eyes were open and glassy. An Earth dragon, Daelin noted, without attaching any particular significance to that fact. Dragonhome was not so far from the Starfall Isles.

More importantly, the skydancer was definitely dead. If they had been injured, Daelin supposed they would have been obligated to offer help, but there was nothing even Nesita, with all her healing skill, could do for this dragon.

Daelin wondered if Zarya would like the body. The anatomist didn’t get to acquire dragon corpses very often, even if they weren’t imperials. She had, Daelin believed, one very old spiral skeleton in a case, and once, late at night, she had taken from one of her boxes a stuffed tundra head, on the understanding that Daelin would not mention its existence to the clan’s more pious or squeamish members. It was not contraband, exactly, but keeping its presence secret saved Zarya a lot of time in discussions and arguments and stupid questions like “Who was it?”

Returning to the present with a shake of their head, Daelin decided they’d better ask before bringing Zarya a dead dragon. Even if she were interested in the corpse, she probably wouldn’t want it paraded before the rest of the clan.

But Daelin could finish investigating first. They slid a claw under the flap of the first satchel and flicked it open.

Gold.


End file.
